


Realignment

by rattyjol



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Female Friendship, Gen, Star Trek Friendshipfest, injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rattyjol/pseuds/rattyjol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A canon-divergent AU where Seska doesn't make an alliance with the Kazon and is discovered as a Cardassian spy anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnetgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/gifts).



> Written for the [Star Trek Friendshipfest 2015](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/star_trek_friendshipfest_2015) for magnetgirl, who requested Seska and B'Elanna. It turned into something just as much about Seska and Janeway, whoops.
> 
> I had the [original idea](http://rattyjol.tumblr.com/post/120328388972/okay-so-like-this-episode-focused-enough-on-seska) for this fic during my last rewatch, but it would have worked much better stretched through at least a season or so than all condensed like this.
> 
> Thanks to [albaoaurora](http://albaoaurora.tumblr.com/) of tumblr for beta'ing!

“Captain.” Seska eyed the figure in the doorway, making no attempt to modulate her scowl. “I assume you’re here to revoke my holodeck privileges. Replicator rations? No need to keep me confined to quarters, the crew has done that quite nicely.”

Captain Janeway stepped inside, with that air she put on when she wanted to act like someone’s friend, and not their captain. She didn’t look around the quarters—Seska had always liked her quarters, pretty plush for someone so low as a provisional ensign, and bigger than the cabins the Maquis had crammed four bunks into. She had artfully decorated it in the Bajoran style, all earth tones and spirituality. Effort wasted now, she supposed.

“Please, sit down.” Janeway swept an arm to the cluster of low chairs. One had toppled on its side—or, Seska had toppled it, would be more accurate. She could still feel the anger burning sour in her chest. And her bruised foot.

“I’d rather not,” she said, twisting her mouth wryly. Her split lip stretched painfully, but didn’t bleed.

“Suit yourself. Let me get to it then—this is the third fight you’ve been in this week.”

“Gee,” Seska said before she could stop herself. “I wonder why.”

Janeway shot her a disapproving look. “I understand that these are circumstances beyond your control. But Neelix reports that this time, you threw the first punch.”

Seska glowered. “I was provoked.”

“I am aware. Multiple eyewitness accounts all align with your version of events—”

“Oh, well, I’m glad there was someone  _trustworthy_ there to corroborate my story—”

“That’s _enough_ , Ensign,” Janeway said sharply. There was a moment where they each held their ground, and then Seska backed down, letting out her anger in a loud huff and turning away.

“Ensign Tabor is restricted to quarters when off-duty until further notice. He will be taking on extra duty shifts scrubbing the plasma conduits.”

Seska felt a spike of satisfaction, but it was tinged with unease. She had liked Tabor, not as a mark but as a friend. She’d eaten lunch with him—two weeks ago now? It felt like months.

“You will also take two shifts on plasma conduits,” the captain continued. “Well away from Ensign Tabor, I assure you. As you said, there’s no point in confining you to quarters. But—” she held up a warning hand, “—one more fight and I will have to come up with stronger disciplinary measures. I don’t care the provocation, you are an officer on this ship, and I expect you to act like it.”

Seska eyed her for a moment, and then said flatly, “Yes, Captain.”

“Go to sickbay and get those bruises looked at. Ensign Tabor should be done there by now—you gave him quite the shiner to remember you by.” Did the corner of her mouth twitch? Surely not. “Report to Commander Chakotay at 1400 hours for your new duty assignments. Good day, Ensign.”


	2. Chapter 2

Engineering seemed to be hazardous to Seska’s health these days. Carlson was the third ex-Maquis to “accidentally” stumble into her at her workstation this shift, and she was getting sick of swallowing it.

“Watch where you’re going,” she snapped.

“Or what, spoonhead, you’ll shoot me?” He leaned towards her, taking advantage of his height to loom. His big fists were clenched, and she was tensing to take the first swing when a hand landed on one of Carlson’s shoulders and spun him around.

“Back to your station, crewman,” B’Elanna said, glowering up at him. “Don’t you have some diagnostics to analyze?”

“But— Yes, sir,” he relented, his expression mutinous, and slunk back across the room to his station.

Seska looked at her savior, her spoon warming with relief. “Thanks, B’Elanna, I—”

“That’s ‘Lieutenant,’ Ensign.” B’Elanna hardly spared her a glance, shouldering forward to take over the workstation. “You can get into fights on your own time.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Seska said, keeping her tone light, but the little spark of hope was rapidly fading away. There was no response from B’Elanna as she punched through the log of adjustments Seska had made this shift, checking each one against something on her PADD.

“You don’t trust me.” The words were sour in Seska’s mouth.

“An excellent observation, Ensign.” B’Elanna finished her check and turned away, but Seska pulled her back.

“We’ve been here for almost a year,” she growled, her voice pitched low. “In all that time I have never done anything less than my job. I’m relying on this hunk of metal to get home just as much as you are.”

“Home.” B’Elanna shook Seska’s hand away. “Tell me, is that Bajor, the place you used to tell stories about over the campfire? Or is it Cardassia?” Without waiting for a response, she turned away from the station and started for the upper level. Seska knew every nuance of her body language, knew how full of rage and pain her once-friend was, and still couldn’t resist getting off the parting shot.

“Look at that uniform you’re wearing, _Lieutenant_ ,” she sneered at B’Elanna’s retreating back. “I’m no more of a traitor than you are.”

*

The mess hall doors opened on the dinnertime crowd, bustling and lively as ever. Seska almost turned back, but she had twenty minutes until her next shift, and she’d already used up her replicator rations for the week trying to avoid this place. Well, there was nothing for it.

A few scattered pairs of eyes glared daggers at her as she crossed to the counter to get a tray, but the general cheerful air of the room didn’t lessen, and Neelix gave her his usual irritatingly sunny smile as he filled her plate with something whose origins she didn’t care to guess at.

“Evening, Ensign. Headed for the night shift?”

“That’s right.” Well, at least there was someone on this ship who didn’t want to stab her in the spoon.

He passed the plate across with a reassuring pat on the arm. “Look, I’m not exactly up to date on the politics of the Alpha Quadrant, but I do know what it’s like to be alone. Let me know if you need anything.”

Her eyebrows raised in faint surprise. “Thanks, I guess, but being alone is nothing new for me.” It was  _not_ being alone that was the problem, she thought, as she surveyed the crowded room. Every table was occupied, every eye that turned towards her was hostile or frightened or both. She’d been in more battles than she cared to count, but at least then she’d been allowed to shoot people.

B’Elanna had a table to herself near the replicator, PADD in hand. Seska slid into the empty space across from her.

“That seat’s taken.”

Ignoring her, Seska settled into the captured chair and dug in. B’Elanna said nothing, but her fingers had stilled on her PADD, and Seska could feel the hostility coming off her in waves.

“Why are you here?” she snapped finally.

“Eating.” Seska waved her fork. “Like most people do in the mess hall.”

“Why are you at my table?”

Seska shrugged, swallowing a bite of something just this side of edible. “Everywhere else was full. I figured you were least likely to deck me.”

“I think you need to recheck your calculations.”

“‘ _You are an officer on this ship, and I expect you to act like it_ ,’” Seska mimicked the captain’s cadence. “Don’t tell me she hasn’t given you the speech.”

B’Elanna continued to glare at her for a moment, then relented with a snort. “Twice.”

“Just twice? I’m shocked.”

B’Elanna’s lip seemed to twitch upwards for a split second, before the walls came crashing back down again.  _Damn._

“I have work to do,” she said stiffly, rising with her tray. Then she paused, clearly wrestling with her own tongue. Her tongue must have come out ahead, because she finally snapped, “I would have died for you.” There was a heartbeat where B’Elanna seemed to be laid bare, hurt and raw and grieving, before she smothered herself in anger again. “We, any of the Maquis, we would have died for you.”

 _I know._ The words caught in Seska’s throat. She stared after B’Elanna, mouth open, until long after the mess hall doors had closed behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Seska limped up the corridor as fast as her bruised ribs would let her. The black eye and the blood on her collar were hardly unobtrusive. If she could get back to her quarters and clean up, then at least— Damn. The little Ocampan nurse was headed down the hall straight towards her, and the sickly sweet concern and busybody attitude were the last things Seska needed right now. She tried to duck down a side corridor, but too late.

“Are you all right, Ensign?”

“Fine,” Seska said shortly, turning away, but Kes ducked in front of her, one hand reaching gently for her face.

“That nose looks broken,” she said, concern dripping from her every word. “Are you on your way to sickbay?”

“Yes, of course,” Seska said, lying through her teeth. _Please go away._

“Good, I was just on my way there now. I’ll walk with you.”

 _Damn it._ “Actually, you know, it’s really not that bad,” she said, turning the other way. “I think I’ll just go back to my quarters and lie down.”

“Nonsense, the Doctor will have it put right before you know it.” Kes laid a hand on Seska’s bad arm, and Seska flinched.

“Is that a broken arm?” Kes’s hand hung in midair. “What happened?”

“Just a slip on a ladder in the Jefferies tubes. It’s fine, really.”

“The Doctor would never forgive me if I let you go in this condition,” Kes said firmly. “Let’s get you to sick bay.”

Trapped by the guiding hand at the small of her back, Seska allowed herself to be led off.

*

The captain arrived just as the Doctor was completing Seska’s full body scan. She hardly spared a glance for the patient, instead greeting the physician with a brusque, “Report.”

“A broken nose, three cracked ribs, a fractured ulna, minor internal bleeding, a sprained knee, and two broken toes.” The Doctor listed this all in one breath without so much as consulting his readings. _Show-off_.

Now Janeway turned her grim authority to Seska. “How did this happen?”

“I slipped off a ladder in the Jefferies tubes while repairing a power conduit,” Seska duly recited, for the third time.

Janeway’s eyebrows rose, unimpressed. “And did anyone slip off this ladder with you?”

“No, Captain.”

“May I?” Without waiting for an answer, the captain took Seska’s good arm by the wrist and turned it over to examine the back of her hand. Practically every other inch of her was black and blue, but her knuckles were unbruised and unbloodied. She hadn’t even had time for a single punch, the bastards. “Thank you, Doctor. When you’re finished here, Ensign, I want a full injury report. In person, please.”

Seska’s mouth twisted in distaste, but she muttered, “Yes, Captain.” The Doctor ducked in front of her to begin on her broken nose, blocking her view. The door hissed, and the captain was gone.

*

“My report, Captain.” Seska held out the PADD in her good arm. The Doctor had repaired the bones and fixed the rest, but said she would be sore for a few days. She’d had worse.

Janeway set the PADD on her desk and stood, moving to the replicator. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No. Thank you.”

The captain nodded and ordered a cup of coffee for herself, waving Seska towards the couch. “Please sit down, Ensign.”

Seska perched uneasily on the long sofa. Cardassian sensibilities didn’t allow for soft couches in the offices of guls and legates; Maquis commanders didn’t have the luxury. She’d always thought of Starfleet officers as soft, but she could see the use. Diplomacy, espionage, manipulation—it was all the same in the end.

Janeway returned with her coffee—there was a second mug on the tray, Seska noted—and settled in on the couch next to her. Not so close as to crowd her, but near enough to lean in and make the coming conversation intimate, confidential. Half-turned in her seat to face her guest, body language open—oh yes, she was good at this. Her concern almost seemed genuine, maybe it even was, but Seska didn’t believe for a second that that was why they were here.

The captain filled her mug and took a long sip, eyes closing briefly in satisfaction. Then she set it aside.

“How do you like _Voyager_ , Seska?”

Right to the point. Seska shrugged. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Captain. Right now, I’m more concerned with what _Voyager_ ’s crew thinks of me.”

“Frankly, they don’t trust you.”

“ _Really_ ,” Seska began, but the captain raised a hand and went on.

“They may be under my command, but I can’t control what they think. Or what they do when no one is watching.” She gave Seska’s arm a pointed look. “However, violence against any member of this crew is unacceptable. If anyone else was involved in this . . . accident of yours, I would like to know.”

“You can read all about my accident in my injury report, Captain.” Seska gestured in the direction of the PADD, abandoned on Janeway’s desk.

“I would rather hear it from you. If I check the logs in Engineering, will I find a record of a maintenance request?”

“Someone mentioned in passing that they had noticed power fluctuations on deck six,” Seska said flatly. “I went to check it. I was planning to log it after I was done.”

“And do you remember who this ‘someone’ was?”

“No.”

“Nothing about them? Species, gender, division?”

“No.”

“Are there any other incidents you would like to report?”

“No.”

Janeway reached for her coffee again. “Are you sure you don’t want any? I’ve finally convinced the replicator to blend it just right.”

Seska frowned. “No.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving _Voyager_?”

That one blindsided her. Seska paused, mouth open, for just a fraction of a second too long before saying again, “No.”

“Why? We could drop you off on any inhabited world you desired. No one would know you. It would be a fresh start.”

Seska’s expression tightened. “Are you asking me to leave, Captain?”

Janeway held out a reassuring hand. “Not at all. I only want to make sure you’ve considered all the options.”

“Trust me, I have. I’m not exactly fond of the idea of spending the rest of my life in this quadrant. Besides, they’re trying to bully me off the ship.” She looked Janeway squarely in the eyes. “I’ve never responded well to bullies.”

The captain only nodded. “I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay. Though frankly, I can’t guarantee the safety of anyone on this ship.”

That, Seska knew all too well. “You could do a hell of a better job of it.”

“Oh?” The captain raised her eyebrows in invitation. Seska didn’t have to be told twice.

“We’ve been meandering across half the quadrant. You go out of your way for every scientific anomaly and two-bit distress call the sensors pick up, you make enemies out of the powers of this quadrant and friends out of the weak.”

“You have permission to speak freely,” Janeway murmured, half to herself. Seska ignored her and went on.

“I don’t trust you. I don’t like the way you run this ship. I don’t think your methods will get us back to the Alpha Quadrant. And if you weren’t in command, we would have been in the Delta Quadrant for all of two _days_.”

She had gotten up and started pacing as she spoke. Now she turned back, to find Janeway listening patiently and attentively.

“And yet you stay.”

Seska snorted. “I want to go _home_ , Captain. Here, there’s at least a marginally better chance of that than on some backwards planet that wouldn’t know a good bottle of kanar if it hit them in the ass.”

“Where is home, for you?”

B’Elanna had presented the same question to her the other day in Engineering. Seska had had plenty of time to think about the answer. Bajor, where she had taken her first steps and played in the streets alongside Bajoran children? The little house in the Cardassian outpost colony, blown to rubble? The military base where she’d trained to be a soldier, the Order base where she’d trained to be a spy?

“A long way away,” is all she could say. “Like the rest of you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Reports and schematics were strewn across the table. Seska could have spread the mess over three tables if she’d wanted; the mess hall was beginning to fill up with people trickling in off shift change, but so far no one had dared taking the tables closest to her.

B’Elanna slid into the seat across from her. Surprise flickered across Seska’s face for an instant before she reined it back in.

“Oh good,” she said coolly, returning to the shuttle schematics in front of her. “I was worried I had started to stink.”

She could almost feel B’Elanna’s gaze, silent and searching, probing the top of her head bent over the PADD. Seska tried to refocus on her work and found she couldn’t, the schematics flicking by uselessly before her eyes.

Finally she blew out her breath and looked up. “Did you have something to say, Torres?”

“How long have I known you, Seska? Two years? Two and a half?”

“Give or take.” Watching B’Elanna’s face carefully, Seska realized that she knew it better than she knew her own—either of them.

“We took our oaths to the Maquis together. You swore on—”

“My mother’s grave.” Seska held her expression carefully stony. She wasn’t sure she liked where this conversation was going.

“And your mother is . . . ?”

“Unhappily living out her retirement on some farming colony, last I heard.”

B’Elanna’s mouth set unhappily. “And the stories about Bajor?”

“Were true, mostly. With some necessary cosmetic changes.” Seska grimaced, touching the bridge of her nose. It had taken weeks to get used to the Bajoran ridges at the corners of her vision. “My parents were stationed there when I was a child. During the Occupation.”

B’Elanna’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Military?”

“Administrators. Not that that makes much of a difference, I’ve gathered.”

Leaning back and crossing her arms, B’Elanna’s pose screamed of a thin veneer of skepticism, poorly masking whatever was underneath. “Two years, and I know nothing about you. Why should I trust anything you say?”

Seska snorted humorlessly, waving a vague hand around the room. “What reason would I possibly have to lie?”

B’Elanna shrugged. “Force of habit?”

“The best lies always have some truth to them. Makes them easier to remember. You might know more about me than you think you do.”

“Like what?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you were my _friend_!” B’Elanna’s shout sliced through the mess hall chatter like a phaser beam. Conversation stopped, and all eyes turned to the pair of them: B’Elanna half on her feet, hands braced on the table as if to launch herself across it, and Seska still in her chair, transfixed by the open grief plain on the face in front of her. For a long moment they froze together, breathless, seeing each other truly for perhaps the first time—and then it was over. Diners returned to their conversations, and B’Elanna sat down again, her breathing heavy. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “You were my friend,” she said again. “And then the next day you weren’t any more.”

Seska let out a long breath. “I thought about telling you . . . when I realized we were really going to be out here for seventy years. After the Sikarian spatial trajector. I figured, seventy years, someone would figure it out eventually. But what was I going to say, ‘Hey B’Elanna, how’s that new holonovel? Good, great, oh and by the way, I’m a Cardassian spy.’”

B’Elanna’s mouth pulled upwards a little at the corner. “That’s probably for the best. I’m not sure I would have believed you.”

“That good, am I?”

“I didn’t believe Chakotay when he told me. I didn’t want to.” Her gaze once again turned probing, as if searching Seska’s for something she’d lost. “Were we ever friends, Seska?”

“I thought we were.”

“So did I.”

Before she could think better of it, Seska blurted, “And now?”

B’Elanna’s pause seemed to stretch out halfway to the Alpha Quadrant. But she didn’t yell, or tense with fresh anger, or jump up and storm out, or . . . And eventually she said, “I don’t trust you. I don’t think I know you. But I . . . would like to try.”

Warmth seemed to radiate through Seska from head to toe. “We can start over?”

B’Elanna shrugged a little, but an answering smile danced at the corners of her eyes. “I’d like that.”

Seska extended a hand across the table. “Hi. I’m Seska. I’m a Cardassian.”

B’Elanna took the hand in her own, warm and callused, and shook it once, firmly. “Hi Seska. I’m B’Elanna.”

And just there, for just that brief moment, home didn’t feel quite so far away after all.


End file.
